Slapdash Solution
by Kitcat39
Summary: Naomi had always been good at fixing things. It was her job after all. However, one brother never stayed fixed, no matter what she did. It seemd that there was definately something wrong with Castiel. Spoilers for Season Eight.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. I wish I did, but I don't.**  
><strong>Warnings: Lots of spoilers for Season Eight, references to Naomi "fixing" Castiel<strong>  
><strong>AN: I just got around to watching Season Eight, and I absolutely fell in love with Naomi's particular brand of morally ambiguous villainy. This little fic found its inspiration in Epiosde Twenty One, "The Great Escapist" and its stunning revelation that Cas has apparently always been throwing a monkey wrench in things.<strong>

Slapdash Solution

Naomi fixes things. That is her job, and she is good at it. Whenever Anna got too petulant or Uriel too dissident, Zachariah too arrogant or Balthazar too hedonistic, she would wield her knives and drills and get them back to normal. If angels were allowed to feel pride she would boast of her many achievements to all that would listen. But they weren't, so she didn't. She would not dare to commit that particuar sin. However, there has always been one brother who just never seemed to stay fixed, no matter how many times he visited her. That single blemish on her spotless record is a lowly little soldier named Castiel.

Their first appointment together was during the Cain and Abel incident. The angel had wanted to kill Cain before the man killed Abel. Worrisome, but only a little. She had him as good as new inside of a week.

Their second meeting came after the Tower of Babel fell. He had been aiding the humans by using his powers to keep the tower steady. That was slightly more concerning, as he was actually taking action on his wrongheaded ideas, but still not overly so. She probably just missed something during his last visit. She never claimed to be perfect, as that would be sinful. She took extra care this time, keeping him under the knife for a few months to root out every problematic thought.

After the incident in Sodom and Gomorrah Naomi started getting truly frightened. Something was obviously wrong with Castiel, something that had rooted itself so far deep inside him that not even her talented blades could reach. It became a regular thing, his visits. From the Plagues of Egypt to the Crusades, Roanoake to World War II, each major event in history has so far been invariably accompanied by Castiel being dragged kicking and screaming to her office.

After a while she stopped trying to find the problem and simply wiped his memory, erasing just enough to get him back into fighting shape. Sure, it is a virtue to be hardworking, but the endless, frustrating futility of it all simply wore her down after a few centuries. The old human adage "insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results" definitely rang true in this scenario. After all, is it really all that useful to fix something only for it to break again in exactly the same way?

Sometimes she would wonder whether this was a problem she actually was able to fix, or if poor little Castiel had been put together right in the first place. You can't fix something that isn't broken, after all. She occasionally fancied that he had a kink in his wings, a single ill-grown feather that made him swerve toward the left-hand path no matter how hard he tried to fly straight, though whether he even tried at this point was up for debate. Of course, she would never fail to stop those kinds of thoughts the nanosecond they arrived. God never makes mistakes, and everything goes according to His plans. Thus, Castiel has a purpose, just like her, though his is definitely more obscure.

He could be a test of faith, she'd think as she scraped out traces of rebelliousness. Or perhaps an example for the others, she'd ponder as she incised instructions into his Grace. After a particularly arduous session spent splicing in new memories, she began to wonder if he was God's way of showing her that she wasn't omnipotent. It didn't matter though, since He obviously has plans for His aberrant child.

One day, the Heavens rang with song and joy. The Righteous Man had been raised from Hell at last. It had taken forty years and countless legions of brothers and sisters, but it had finally happened. The army of Heaven had forced the damned to break rank for just long enough to allow a single angel to get through and reach the target. This triumphant angel was no one special, just a lowly little soldier named Castiel. In light of this, Naomi skipped the celebrations. She chose instead to tend to her blades. She knew they would be needed soon.


End file.
